


Old Man

by IZZYCHAN13



Series: MaxBradley [9]
Category: A Goofy Movie (1995), An Extremely Goofy Movie
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 06:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17761946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IZZYCHAN13/pseuds/IZZYCHAN13
Summary: After a bout of conflict, following the events of "Poolside" and "Captivity", Max Goof and Bradley Uppercrust have sunk into themselves, seeming as if there was nothing but a dead end.. They decide to reconcile in another fashion: By making a visit to Max's "old man". (Originally published on deviantART in November 2011)





	1. Chapter 1

Only now was it becoming clear that the Other Half was not what Max had believed it to be: a friend. A friend there to guide him, defend him against all abuse from a crazed jock.

Someone who he had fallen into deep lust with for the longest time.. and then...

 

The black canine stared at the stucco for substitute, wallowing in a cross between enlightenment and self-pity. His left wrist was tightly wrapped in thick gauze, still pulsating from the tension and its release. To not get into deeper trouble with his friends, he decided to wear a thin, long-sleeved sweater, navy blue. Lucky for him it wasn't the right; they would have noticed him wincing his he walked around the kitchen with a heavy pot handle.

Now it was past one in the morning. The world around him had gotten dark around 6 in the evening.

There he lay, bundled up in a warm comforter. But he couldn't sleep, counting the bumps on the ceiling in dim blue light. His eyes stung. He kept on counting...

_Bradley._

 

The word "child" echoed in his mind. He never wanted to be labeled as one since high school. But, was it really true? Was he… immature? Was everything he felt towards him, involved in him, nothing but a selfish, instant gratification? Like what he said, "Don't confuse _love_ with _lust!_ "

_Maybe, I like confusing my terms..... Do I?_

Motionless, waiting for daybreak, and trying to remove a dark veil from his eyes.

 

An 8-bit tune filled the room from the dresser nearby. The cell phone vibrated against the wood finish and almost woke the guys up, had it not been for Max snatching it off the ledge and hurting his wrist in the process, "ow owow; fuck."

He flipped it open and heard a single word, "Max."

...

It was now 2 in the morning.

"Max? Are you there?"

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. The boy mentally shuddered at the sound of his voice. About a minute passed by, sounding of static on the other end until a pseudo-snide remark interfered, "Are you alive??" He buried himself under the comforter and responded in a whisper, "Yeah."

"... I'm glad."

"Me too." The boy nearly smiled in the glow of the small screen.

A bit of silence followed before Bradley continued, "Max?"

"Hm?"

"Let's take a breather. Um, let's visit your old man."

Just a _tad_ confused, "What?"

Now a gruff tone, "You heard me."

\-----

"What are you doing?" Bobby frowned and looked at the mess on the floor around Max's bed. An open piece of luggage had a poorly tossed change of clothes and bare necessities meant for the weekend, spilling over the edge.

"I'm going out."

"You don't mean moving out of the dorm to live in the Gamma House, do you??"

The black canine had his back arched to him, raising a bit more at this speculation, "Of course not. I'm going to see my ol—dad. I'm going for the weekend to visit my dad... I miss him."

The two had barely made eye contact ever since that grating morning, after that memorable Halloween night.

The boy whirled around and avoided bumping into him as he walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Max looked in the mirror and noticed the dark circles under his eyes.  
The baby blue eyes flicked red—

_What are you doing?_

I'm going to visit my dad. I miss him.

_You miss holding Uppercrust in your arms! And you in his! You could care less about your "old man"!_

The Other Half grabbed at his shoulders and forced eye contact,

" _Don't lie to me!_ " He was absolutely livid, "DON'T. LIE."

The ego just took what the id had to say and nodded his head, "I might be lying. I do want to be with him again... but I want to see my dad too."

"With what blessing?!" shaking his arms desperately. His usual calm nature was being dragged down by a shaky intake of air. A wave of anger was replaced by some other tactic. The Other Half gulped and ran a hand through his lover's hair, "Maximilian—My dear Maximilian. _Beloved!_ Why would you want to break your heart over this parasite??" He gave a determined kiss on warm lips, "Love me! Only me. You don't need anyone else. You're fine on your own. You don't need him—you don't need anybody! _Nobody_ will take the place of Roxanne!"

"Since when have you ever cared?" cold response. Something in the alter ego's features began to resemble that of the real Goof. His brows suddenly furrowed and before the other knew it he was against the wall, wind nearly knocked out of him.

For the first time, tears ran down from the sockets of glowing ruby orbs, "Nobody will!" sobbing, " _Why_ do you want to betray us? I'm a _part_ of you, Max!" The Other Half struck him hard. Max didn't bother to return the blow. He just gazed at his own confidante. A lover. A savior. His voice of reason. His own tormentor.

"Nobody will take the place of Roxanne. I loved her." Eyes widened in shock, " _Loved?!_ "

"I never said that Bradley would take her place. She means too much for me. He gets that."

" _No!_ " holding him tightly, never wanting to let go, "If you _really_ care for her, you'd stop seeing him! You'd go and find _her_ , not Brad—follow her to the ends of the earth and claim what's rightfully yours! _Ours!_ "

Max kissed his Other Half on the forehead. Embraced him and buried his muzzle in raven hair...

He didn't know how to react to this.

 

A knock sounded at the door. The kid washed his face for the third time and grabbed the nearest towel, damp and cold,

"Max, where are you going?" He opened the door and saw his buddy, then smiled,

"Hey Peej. I'm going to see Dad this weekend."

PJ blinked and gawked at him with those amber irises, "Willingly?"

He only knew how many times Max just wanted to get away from Mr. Goof. To hear of finally wanting to see him was a bit unexpected, "You want me to come with?"

"No," looking around noticing that Zimmeruski was a no-show, "I'll be going alone... Peej?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for the offer." A hug came from nowhere. _I'd love it if you could, but then..._

PJ didn't know what to do. The last time he had received one was way back when they were just a couple of rowdy kids, some Christmas morning. He forgot which year...

"Aw Max don't get all sappy," patting him on the back and distancing away, "you're crying."

Goof rubbed at his eyes, "No," taking a sniff, "I just got something in them. That's all."

His best friend smirked, "I guess we gotta tell Bobby's ghost to stop chopping onions in the kitchen, huh?"

For the first time in a long while, Maximilian let out a good-humored laugh,

"Shut it, man!"

\-----

The next day... Friday. Just as instructed, the canine waited at the Reference Section of the college library, near the same spot they had bumped into each other way back in September... That same night... Out of habit he dwelled on the past, and thought of her again before playing the recorded tape over and over again in the back of his mind.

_"Can you stop answering in one-word sentences??"_

_When he turned away after throwing the book in his fumbling hands, "You're welcome." before walking off._

He almost grinned watching himself picking up the weight on the floor and going into a nervous sweat. The naivety of this kid! Max didn't know, after all this time, whether he had gotten wiser or stupider.

Looking back even further, he wondered if Bradley Uppercrust was the only jerk present in that locker room. Everything that happened that strange afternoon was _his_ fault, wasn't it?

... Or, was it..

 

"Angel." Clouds parted from foggy eyes. "There's a back way out. You got everything?"

The boy nodded and picked up the case lying next to the bulky scanner printer. He looked behind the senior in question. "There's no one nearby. All my stuff is already packed in the trunk. You can put your case back there, too."

Max didn't know exactly how he was going to get back home. Hearing this, his heart skipped a beat or two. He kept silent, and followed quiet footsteps down the linoleum path to heavy double doors. Every time the sophomore looked in his direction, the senior averted his eyes. The distance between them was immense for being so close more than a week ago, "Bradley?"

The jock pressed his weight against the metal beam; barrier opening with a clank, "Come on." answering as if he never heard the question. A fantasy jolted through the kid's mind. He wanted to throw the case aside and pin his lover to the brick wall to show how much he missed him! The expression on Uppercrust's face was immediately sobering; he looked as if he were to collapse at any moment. There was a slight swaying motion to his walk, as if everything around him was nothing but a dream...

Just a dream. The fog shielded over light blue orbs again, "Bradley," reaching for his hand, to which the other pulled away and slipped into his trench coat pocket,

"You never learn, do you?"

The asphalt greeted the soles of their shoes, crunching the red and yellow mulch. More leaves fluttered from their branches. A couple fell in the boy's hair. Neither had noticed. Max was smart enough to be wearing a sweater this time. The same he wore on the day that he had made up his mind to transfer out of campus due to his "old man's" skyrocketing popularity. Bradley wore dark grey over his usual maroon. Goof Boy looked to the sky.

Crows mocked their presence this dreary afternoon. He slid across a bit of frost. It wasn't getting _that_ cold already—was it?

"Where is it?" hot breath forming puffs of smoke in the chilly air.

"Storage area nearby."

"Is it a part of the campus?"

"Nope."

\-----

For being the loose cannon in practically everything else, Bradley was a hell of a good driver, eyes always focused on the road ahead. The fifth freight truck zoomed by the opposing lane. Max didn't have to take the wheel even once. Only a half hour passed by. A half hour of near silence.

Rows and rows of cornfields swept past his vision. A speck of sun broke through lead skies.

The boy had to gasp for air when he failed to speak again... Now mouth barely opened...

"uh. Where'd you get the car?"

"My old man got it for me," never letting his pupils shift, "ironic, actually."

"How much was it?"

"Way past your budget, if you ever decide to get a job. Can't you drive??" The dead look transformed to puzzlement.

"Usually, I'd... "

The black Lincoln slowed to a stop at a main intersection. The route home was straight ahead.

"Bradley, can we stop somewhere along the way?"

The driver flinched, " _Why?_ Do you want to _talk_ , or do you want to make out??"

"I—

"What do you take me for?!" He sounded more alive now that his frustration lit a spark, "Just because you classify me as a whore it gives you the _right_ to do whatever you want with me??" The traffic light was still on red; foot planted firmly on the brake, "Max. What is the definition of 'whore' to you?"

The senior glared, waiting for a response.

"A whore... is someone you pay to have sex with. But not always. Some people just choose to be—

" _Choose_ to be?" The response sounded high pitched due to the lack of oxygen to his diaphragm, "That's _really_ funny, Goof Boy. I forgot to laugh!" Bradley's tone of voice was painful. Max should have kept his mouth shut. The light went green; wheels grinded on the asphalt—

"And what if the paid whore doesn't do what he or she is told to do?"

"..."

" _Answer me!_ " The young man came to a screeching halt off the side of the road; dirt ruined the spotless rubber and chrome. Both might have just flown through the window shield if they didn't have their restraints on, "Well?!"

 

"They're," catching breath and swallowing a hard lump, "not doing their job."

"You expect them to be punished?" It was near accusation.

 

" _No._ " Brad clicked off his seat belt and twisted his body to set his record straight, motioning with his hands and arms,

"Most clients punish their whores. Their handlers will torture them to get what they want. They never bother to know their name nor where they came from."

This was a horrible time to bring up the Occult rituals the fraternity performed from time to time. The kid had his lips sealed. Hypocrisy was blatant in both males.

"The ones I've met," he continued, "tell me they were neglected. Tell me they were forced into it. Drugged, kidnapped, whatever. They tell me. And, I _listen_. I _know_ it's their job, but if they're not up to it, I _still_ pay them the full amount and don't speak a _word_ of it to their pimps."

This was hard to digest.

"You think they're just filthy creatures that the world can do without? Do you expect everyone to be _pure?_ Without sin??" He grabbed at the sweater's collar and brought the kid's face centimeters away from his, "Until people like you decide the time is ripe?"

 

.....

 

"You do the same thing, _Brad_. I bet I'm not the only one you've corrupted."

His back slammed the passenger seat door.

"You _raped_ me!"

"So have you. What's the difference?" He half wished that a tractor would come by and run them over. His lack of anger only irked Uppercrust even more, "You started it!"

"You did... let's put up the shades and rock in the backseat already."

 

Bradley did no such thing. The car ignited and blazed back on the track.

"If I didn't feel it was my responsibility to get you to your dad safely I'd unlock the door and kick you out so you can find yourself under the wheels of a fuckin' truck!"

 

Maximilian never felt so disconnected from reality in his life.

 

"I _hate_ you!" Brad sounding dreadfully abnormal; tears welling up inside of him.

"Why are you helping me then? I'm going to the back and sleep. Wake me when we get there

"But I need you to tell me where we should go once we reach the city limits, Max

 

"Then STOP _insulting me!!_ " lunging and wrenching the wheel from the senior's hands and twisting it towards an oncoming car in the other lane—

Bradley shrieked in horror and as quick as lightning pushed him out of the way at the blare of a horn—

The sides of both cars grazed at each other and kept going at full speed—

 

"Are you _crazy_ you almost got us _killed!!_ "

"I'm not the one killing in your stupid ritual orgies!"

"I will not be held responsible for the death of those that had nothing to do with us!"

"You know what?! You're a fucking _hypocrite!_ "

"So are you you _crazy bitch!_ "

"Then we agree on something!"

" _Finally!!_ "

 

Now like an old married couple in unison, " _SHUT UP!_ "

\-----

The darn canines were a lot calmer throughout the next several hours. The silence was replaced by a dark, neoclassical melody…

"We're running on empty," pulling up to the station on the outskirts of town, "wait here, Max."

"Okay." Goof Boy smiled before needing to turn away from a cute wink.

At some point in their day's journey they did end up parking for a while. But all that happened between them was a long embrace, kissing each other's face, blushing all the while like kids playing in the closet. They avoided lip contact; both knew it was going to lead to a more depraved form of affection...

Max willingly let the whore be on top as his form of an apology. The sweetest, sickening words fell from their lips, telling each other how much they cared, and what regret they felt. Many questions, old and new, were asked, but never answered. Before they knew it, they nearly drifted off into sleep, eyes fogged with salty dew...

 

...

 

It still wasn't right. Being involved in this way. If anyone else who bore the same complex shone with pride, then he was the type to douse the fire—snuff it out as a sin of weakness.

 

_I'm weak, Other Me. We both know that._ He held his hand firmly and kissed a suffering being on a pale cheek.

You're going to kill us, Maximilian. You've accepted it. You'll make no effort to change, will you? _What if... I can't change it?_

 

The ruby orbs lost all light before they began to disappear with the rest of him,

... Please, Max.

His plea was a whisper...

 

"Maximilian?" A warm hand touched his lap, "Are you okay?"

The boy looked away from the window pane and his own relflection.

"You look tired. Are, we almost home?"

Bradley fastened his seat belt and gazed into watery orbs...

 

"Yeah, we are."

 

"I'm glad." A child's smile.

 

Something freshly buried in the mind's eye suddenly growled.

You two. Will only end up killing each other. Inside and out... Bastards.

I'll be back, when He needs me..... You can count on it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad!" Max leapt into his father's arms when the door finally opened, catching him completely by surprise—

" _Maxie!_ " Goofy returned the hug and peered over his only son's shoulder, "huh?"

"Good evening, Mr. Goof."

A familiar redhead with a bob of short hair and pointed frames strutted over to the entrance, in a sky blue turtleneck and a long, lavender skirt, "Oh it's so good to see you again!" kissing the sophomore on the cheek, to which he beamed. Bradley looked at the college librarian, not in disdain, most probably mere disapproval. That didn't stop him from extending a cordial hand,

"Ms. Marpole—

"Soon to be Mrs.—greeting each other in all politeness. Throughout their platonic chat afterwards, Goofy took Max to the other side of the porch,

"What's Mr. Uppercrust doing here, Max?"

No better time to get some weight off his chest, "We're friends now, Dad. We've, you know—" shrugging his shoulders in place of laughing nervously, "settled our differences!"

His father raised a brow, as for the _how_ —"We just got to talking to each other, after you got your college degree—" rocking back and forth on his toes and placing both hands in his pockets, "And, we realized that we have a lot in common."

"I'm not so sure—

"Pete ain't exactly the most trustworthy friend on the planet either, Dad." Giving a funny little smirk to seal the deal, "But, he's a good guy underneath all that."

Goofy still had an air of uncertainty despite his usual cheerful self,

"All right, Maxie. Do the boys know you're here?" Max stuck his tongue out playfully before responding, "Yep! But, they don't know that Bradley drove me here. It's a bad idea letting them know…"

The Uppercrust kid gave Mr. Goof a friendly pat on the back,

"The ex X-Games King being friends with the captain of Team 99? It's unheard of! They'd no sooner burn us at the stake for being heretics!"

Max motioned him to cut away his sense of humor once Goofy turned to face this "changed man". Sylvia giggled and dragged a confused Goof away,

"Don't worry none, honey. I've known this student for a long time!"

 

An odd, disturbing image crept to Maximilian's head, which he immediately dismissed.

 

"He used to come by the library all the time during his freshman year. Quite the bookworm, weren't you, Bradley?" The senior went red from embarrassment, "He'd always tell me it was his only way to escape his 'prison of a fraternity' and all the sports practices in between—Remember, sweetie?"

" _Haha!_ Yep—" Sweat flew in all directions as he tugged at his collar while Max failed to stifle a giggle, throwing his head back and laughing nonstop,

"Bookworm Bradley! That's adorable!"

\-----

With the petite Chihuahua around, it was easy to break the ice between the jock and the new champion's father. Sylvia played the mediator at every turn. Yet she was downright oblivious to the fact—

"Should we tell her?"

"What are you asking me for, Dad?" _Besides…_

Her hand was on Bradley's shoulder, currently enthusiastic about his progress in trivial things, amongst them being reading classic novels, poetry, and his dabbling in fine art. Their slabs of pound cake, drizzled with strawberry syrup, were getting cold along with the instant coffee. A drop or two of the transparent, viscous topping tinted the baby blue-white checkered tablecloth, surface decorated with a woman's touch. A vase of flowers burst with the rainbow's spectrum, opaque glass reflecting their merry dispositions…

 

Goofy was confounded at the sight which his son found rather pleasant.

If the senior's participation was all out of a devised plan, then he was doing a mighty good job at it. Maybe all the boisterous laughs were mocking of her intelligence. The hot blushes were of shock, as if she had unearthed a dark secret.

Everything was going just as planned when the librarian pulled him in for a tight hug, where his arms fell limp in a motherly embrace. There was no better moment to draw the hearts all around this stranger to the common world.

"I wish you had the time to visit me last year."

"Heh heh, it doesn't seem I had to. Mr. Goof here did a better job than what I'm qualified for!"

"Me?"

"Yep!" Sticking his tongue out in good humor, "You got a wonderful woman…"

Max was the only one to hear in on the rest of his sentence, "to replace your dear beloved wife."

His melody went sour on the last note.

"Gawrsh." It was Mr. Goof's turn to blush; Ms. Marpole took a cute hand to her lips and giggled.

 

"Dad," placing a hand over his father's, "Let's not tell her what he did," secretive whisper, "look at him…"

Brad glanced across the table and met the kid's eyes. He seemed a bit hurt, yet smiled nonetheless.

"Why do we need to have the whole world hate him?"

 

Sylvia wrung her hands in excitement, "Tell me, do you have any new sketches you'd like to share??"

A black dog nearly choked on the hot water as he was sipping it up.

"He's very good at figure drawing, Goofy."

"Fig—ur??"

\-----

The four lounged around in the living room, occupying the loveseat, couch and armchair nearby. Bradley took the armchair like another throne, leaning forward in conversation.

Topics of interest were of the college life, graduation, and future endeavors.

The spastic jock never sounded more civilized in his known life, taking everything seriously and not spitting out any dialogue dripping of sarcasm or ill will. Goofy himself, arm wrapped around the librarian, pulled off a bit of a sophisticated image himself. Of course he'd delve into that familiar laugh. After all this time, living with Ms. Marpole, maybe he had some brains implanted by her in a secret lab. Maxie giggled at the sight of Sylvia in a white lab coat sporting long rubber gloves and dark goggles,

"Pull the lever, Tank!" _(clank!)_ " _Wrong lever!!_ "

"What's so funny, Max?" Bradley asked.

"Nothing, man," sitting up on the couch and bringing his knees up to his chest, "Just thinking." The senior's thick brows were raised, _Man?_

 

"I never did meet your dad, Mr. Uppercrust. How's he doing?"

 

A smile kept plastered over the young man's countenance, "Fine. Just fine."

"Where does he work at?"

"Office building."

The usual wordiness to his answers was cut down to size. Fingers resting on the arm dug into the faux leather. The glittering of those blue orbs suddenly went dull. The sophomore was the only one to notice, and bit his lip.

"Could you be more specific—what job he's taking?"

" _Janitor_." Both Goofy and the redhead blinked in astonishment. Uppercrust suddenly burst into laughter, "I'm kidding, sir! He's got a very high position there, white-collar job and everything!"

"Oh!" The funny dog nodded his head in understanding, "I bet you have a nice house—

"Oh yeah. It's _paradise_. Servants and everything." Bradley was either getting borderline ridiculous, or about to blow a fuse—

Goof Boy had to think of something fast, "Bradley—where will you go after you leave college?"

It sounded like a mere repeat of a question that Ms. Marpole had brought up earlier.

But the way he asked it sounded more like a child's plea for him to stay. His father picked up on the tone real quick, "What do you mean, Maxie? Everyone needs to fly the coop sometime. Like you said when you were leaving for college: I can't wait to get out of here."

A wave of guilt knocked the boy over; his friend was not impressed.

The atmosphere went cold. The senior crossed one leg over the other and sunk back into the cushion, aloof, taking a woven fist to the side of his face.

"I'm sorry," bit of a mumble.

 

"Goofy, honey." a peck on the cheek, "You know he's still young. He's only a boy."

Bradley chuckled, "I agree."

Another lump caught in this boy's throat. He just wanted to help. Running a nervous hand through raven hair, he got up and bid everyone a Good Night, peering at a ticking clock above the wall separating them from the kitchen,

"I'm gonna turn in. It's late—

"What's late to you?" Brad was scathing.

"Almost midnight." His dad got up and gave his son a loving embrace. Max didn't know whether to feel grateful or humiliated, "Good night, Maxie—you need help to make the bed? And, where's your friend going to sleep?" Some life came back to the gray orbs as the guest stood up,

"I'm going to sleep in his room. Right, Max?"

Both males smiled sheepishly, "Did you bring a sleeping bag?"

"That's the thing: I've never slept over."

"Uh," suddenly having to turn away when he felt a rush of blood to his cheeks, "there's a ton of blankets in the hallway closet. I can make you a cushion out of those and I'll get you a pillow or two. Loan you some pajamas—

"I brought my own, don't fret about it." Bradley returned to a positive charge.

Sylvia walked up to him and gave him a small kiss, setting the young man ablaze, "Good night, sweetie."

"Before we head upstairs, can you pet my head?" That disturbing image lit up again.

Max jerked at his collar and dragged him off the scene,

"She's not petting your head, playboy!"

Bradley stuttered, "B-b-but!"

 

… "He sure is a strange one, ain't he?"

\-----

"You were _so_ flirting with her, dude!"

"There's that word again! Since when did I become a part of your 'posse'?"

"Don't change the subject!" throwing a pillow at his face—

"Get your mind out of the gutter, _kid!_ " swinging the weight full force, "oof!"

Bradley had a considerable downgrade in sleepwear. On some nights he'd be wearing the robe. On bad, the casual loose fit. And, on good, nothing at all.

Now he wore silk red pajamas, enveloping him in such a way that the ends of his sleeves dangled off his hands. All he needed was a chubbier face and he would be mistaken for a boy of 8! Max, in the usual tank top, saw through this disguise and tripped him up, letting him fall to the cushion of blankets piled on top of each other. Bradley whimpered as he felt himself being pinned down, "You've gotten cuter already." If Goof had a tail, it was wagging up a storm.

 

… "It's not the best idea to try and pull this off at your own house."

 

"And why not? I thought you were the one who found the possibility of getting caught exciting."

Brad shook his head, "Not here." He gulped. The dominant canine looked him over, then went in for a kiss, "Just one. I promise."

The boy wanted to stay there forever, wrapping his legs and arms around his guest—The senior petted his hair and pecked him on the forehead, "Time's up."

He nodded, and stood up—"I can sleep on the floor; you can borrow my bed—

"No, it's fine… Say, what's that?"

A long finger pointed towards the corner of the room, at a stuffed animal perched on top of some linen. " _Nothing!_ " blocking the view which the other peered around, "It's not mine!"

"Well sure it is, unless you got a baby cousin." Maximilian put his head down in shame and put a hand behind his sore neck, letting him take a look, "Aw, it's cute. Now it's _mine_."

"Huh?" The college student now sounded like a school grader.

"It's mine and you can't have it." Sticking his tongue out before smiling, "Teddy!" holding the polyester stuffing close, "It smells just like my 'Maxie'!"

 

"My teddy."

\-----

The lights were off; Goof Boy couldn't sleep. Too many lustful thoughts coincided with more important issues that he felt he had to bring up. It was around 2 in the morning again—

"psst! Bradley!" hanging off the side of his bed and shaking the man's shoulders,

"Mmmh…" tiny yawn, "Wha—Oh Max I was just about to enter a stage of unconsciousness." The teddy bear was guarded by his strong arms.

"Bradley… don't you want to try it now? My dad sleeps like a rock."

"Pfft!" blowing strands of dusty brown hair from his face, "And explain to Mr. Goof why the sheets are covered with slime. Very smart, Max—you should get an award."

The other laughed nervously before clearing his throat, "Speaking of which, why do you hate your 'old man'?"

Heavy silence.

 

Finally opening his mouth, "Max. Your father's a good man. You should be proud. Not shameful."

"Is yours a bad man?" He slid out of the covers and sat down on the cushion, running a caring hand through his friend's hair…

"No. He's not _evil_ , if that's what you meant. He's just…" The young man curled up in fetal position, "kinda tough on me, that's all."

"Kinda like PJ, huh?" Until now Uppercrust's back was toward him; now he was peering up at the younger dog's face, "Hm?"

"His dad's kinda, well.. For a while he wouldn't let me and Peej hang out because I was a Goof—'you'll get their germs, see??'"

Bradley giggled, relieved he wasn't pressing on getting answers. "So, I can catch cooties from you?"

 

Even real tired, he listened attentively to Max Goof's high-spun tales of burglars, car dealerships, camping, fishing, crazy fathers and their occasional rivalry, cute babes… skateboarding and some pharaoh…

Like a mother reading a bedtime story to her child… It was the safest Bradley had felt in a long time, right in the bedroom of his once sworn enemy's house.

 

Max nearly fell asleep next to him. Realizing where he was, he crawled up back into his bed and buried himself under the comforter. Now he didn't know what to do next.

 

It began to dawn on him that Bradley Uppercrust wanted more from him than he could ever give. He didn't know how… and he didn't seem to be the one qualified for the job, either.


	3. Chapter 3

"Son of a bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me—rrk!"

"Say it _again_ ; you're calling my mother a bitch?"

That cocky attitude wouldn't leave, "Of course I am. There a problem?"

They exchanged glares. Max let out a smug smirk, "I wonder what kind of mother it took to raise such a demonic child—Brad twitched—"A _bitch_. Whore even."

The senior's features went contorted to a hellish stature as he tugged the shirt collar even closer, them sharing the same breath, "Don't talk jackshit about my mother!"

Something unusual happened. Stealing a kiss in the secluded alley, Bradley saw the light blue eyes turn red. A voice, not his own, raped his mind,

"You're a _whore_ , Brad. Always will be… Dear mother of yours—you obsess over her! I bet you had some fun with her when your dad wasn't around!"

"WHAT?!" Goof Boy's mouth kept shut, the harsh tone rang in his ears, "Saw her when she dressed—you want her so badly—

"What the hell are you doing??" The boy was in a trance, speaking in tongues—It was the fifth time that the jock punched him in the face, rammed him against the wall and threw mighty blows to his stomach—

The Other Half giggled, "Every time you fuck a girl you wish it was your own mother!"

" _What the fuck?!_ " The constant pulling and tugging at the shirt made the fabric tear—Uppercrust was going mad, "That's not true that's _not_ true why would you say that?! Max— _MAX!_ " That bellow rising from a stressed throat woke the child far too late.

He found himself facing the concrete, trying to climb up the wall to a stand—Bradley pounded him to the ground again, ripping even more of the shirt open—"You, SICK. DEMENTED—

" _Bradley!_ What—?!" The jeans were ripped off; boy finally tasting blood—

" _Cunt_. That is what you are."

 

Max screamed in pure agony and then burst into tears as the thrusts got more and more severe—"Bastard..!" He tried to rip locks off the senior's scalp—

"Harlot! Wench! _Bitch!_ "

As he felt himself being torn through he looked up and saw his mirror image staring him down, incisors agleam in the drab green light. A demonic smile—

"I'm sorry! _I'm sorry!!_ " To this the Other Half laughed and laughed, clapping his hands in sheer delight.

"I didn't mean it—I _didn't_ mean it! I didn't say that!"

… Soon, he lay there, shivering. Hearing the zipping of fabric, his "friend" spoke,

"Wanna know what _you_ remind me of?"

His chest heaved from the suffering.

"I'll never tell you."

 

I'm sorry. I didn't….

 

"mean it." Eyes slowly opened to a fuzzy vision. Red and blue spots gave way to a clear view of the ceiling. The sophomore let out a grievous sigh before realizing where he was. He remembered, then turned on his side to prove that it wasn't all a dream.

An angel slept in cotton and silk, protecting evidence of the innocence that both still shared.

This same man capable of torture in cold blood… "What am I?"

 

He twisted his body and saw green digits, glowing 7:11AM. 7:12AM.

Max was dead tired; he couldn't afford slipping into another nightmare, "Damn it."

\-----

It was a better time than any to take a shower. The lethargy washed off just as quickly as the grime on his fur. The pouf in his hand took great care not to rip off the scab formed above where the inverted cross was ingrained in his belly. The cut was deep enough; but not so much that it nearly pierced his organs…

First a kiss, then a heavy pounding of his foot, and now a permanent scar.

Why did the boy want this monster so badly? Max sighed and rinsed his face under the metal nozzle. Warm water flowing upon his body reminded him of sweet caresses, falling under His spell. When it was over, they'd lie in blood red silk and not utter a syllable. It was only in this silence void of moaning, screaming, cursing and gasping of each other's name, did they begin to truly understand each other. What pained existence each must have led…

The kid still hadn't figured out _why_ Bradley had turned out the way he did. He had asked a number of questions from the very beginning—

"What's your dad like? You're obviously rich. How much money does he make? What's your mom's name? Where do you live? Do the other Gammas know you're gay? Why are you such a jerk?! What's your problem—with being called 'Brad' instead of Bradley??"

_What's wrong with having Brad as a nickname?_

 

Whatever it was…

"What's _love_ to you, Bradley?" asking no one in particular as he dried off his hair after the towel soaked the dew on his muzzle, "Why won't you tell me?"

_You never tell me!_

 

"…. Roxanne."

He got himself dressed in new clothes, while his mind wandered to cold autumn days where he held her close on the porch, as if they were already married. When his dad would go inside to attend to the meal cooking on the stove or in the oven, Max would give her pink cheek a tiny kiss. He was never good with words, so he could never think of anything clever to say without sounding like a dork. She never cared about that. Just knowing she was safe in his arms, that he never meant any harm, was more than enough. She would be the first one to initiate the kiss on the lips, where he would end up playing along and get a little feisty on the couch, as the term implied.

"If you don't feel comfortable, just tell me. I never want to hurt you. Ever."

"Oh Max what are you so worried about? I know you—you're a good guy!"

"You think so, Roxanne?" Brightest color in his eyes.

"I know so" before a peck on his round nose, where he reddened considerably.

"Ahyuck!"

 

How far had he fallen since then? Wasn't he supposed to be the good guy no matter what?

 

He didn't want to think about it anymore and made his way back to the room. Just as he was about to turn the knob—

"Morning, son!"

"Dad!" Max whirled around and controlled his breathing, as well as a hot rush to his cheeks.

"Since you're up so early, you can help with breakfast!"

"That's great, Dad."

He forgot how active Goofy was, up and running for the day ahead.

\-----

"Something smells good!"

"Morning, Mr. Uppercrust!"

Goof Boy snuck a peek over his shoulder. A jet black turtleneck took the place of that prissy sweater, accompanied by tight, dark gray jeans. The outfit set off the sapphire in his eyes.

As always, he took great care in his appearance. Freshly showered, hair combed with a bit of gel, it seemed—"What's up with that hairdo?"

"What about it?" A little yelp came from behind—

Actually it was a bit of a squeal, "Oh! I thought it was your father—

With that a palm and fingers pulled the strands of hair back over his face again while father and son exchanged glances—

"I never said you had to, Bradley. You looked dashing with your hair combed back!"

Slight grimace, "Thanks, Ms. Marpole." Out of the four, Sylvia was the only one still in her sleepwear; a cotton robe with comfy jammies underneath. Fuzzy blue slippers whisked their way over to Mr. Goof, "Morning honey." _Smooch!_

Now that funny giggle.

Still minding the dishes, "Wait, you've _met_ his dad, Sylvia?"

"Yes, Max. His name is Alphonse…" trailing off as Brad stuck thumbs in his pockets, "A bit domineering at times, but he's a respectable gentleman. He attends a number of the College Board meetings—

"M'am." At the man's conjecture, the librarian nodded her head and dropped the subject. The sophomore only wanted to hear more.

 

After a hefty stack of pancakes loaded with butter and syrup, eggs, coffee, crisp sausage and bacon, Goofy made his announcements for this new foggy day, "Won't be foggy by noon! We're gonna get some sun—

"Thank God." The boy had to stifle a giggle to a newly obtained dark sense of humor.

"Max and I will run a few errands while you can help Sylvia around the house."

"I—I'm not so sure that's a great idea—How about you and her—

"Don't you trust me, kid?"

"Uh—

"Apparently not!" giving a mocking little grin.

 

Max made sure to catch the jock in the hallway, alone, "Bradley, can't we have a _little_ fun today?"

"I brought you here," Now in all seriousness, "so that you could reconnect with your father. You want to know what love is? Look to him for an example."

Before walking off, the senior gave the kid a long embrace against the wall and kissed a blushing face and eyelid, "I'm a bit weak with you still, it seems."

To this, he whispered, "Me too."

\-----

"How've you been, son?"

"Good." Max smiled before staring at the low cloud they were engulfed in. The wiping of the windshield wasn't doing very much to clear their vision. Luckily nothing drastic had happened to them on the road,

"yet."

"Huh?"

"Oh nothing Dad, just thinking to myself is all."

"How's college been for you?"

"Great. My grades are decent as usual. The guys are doing all right…"

"Your girlfriend called." Max was no longer in a daze, "Roxanne??" He turned to face his father, eager to hear the rest, "How is she?"

"She says she's doing fine and making new friends—

"That's good!" What about _me?_ "How's her dad?"

"Still the silent type!" The boy grinned and looked at the traffic light, "It's on green now, Dad." A car suddenly honked behind them.

"Whoops, sorry."

\-----

"Did you usually help around the house, living with your father?"

"I remember helping my mother out… then I guess we had Yoli and her friends take up responsibilities around the house. I'd offer to help, but—

"He wouldn't let you—done with the dishes yet? Max made it a lot easier for you, didn't he?"

Bradley let out a curt laugh, "I guess he did."

 

Sylvia was dressed in humble clothing. Not in the mood to be going out, she had on her set of sweatpants and a wool sweater. Her pointed frames slipped off the edge of her nose, and carefully she nudged them back on while wiping up the dust on the wooden furniture, with a wet rag smelling of citrus fumes. The chemicals in the air made the jock half wish he had some brought some marijuana and maybe a slip of LSD—But for now he was getting his hands wrinkled, rinsing the porcelain and ceramic plates, mugs, and silverware, "Da da dada"

"What'd you say?" back to him.

"Nothing just 'singing', making sounds for no reason… Done, Sylvia."

He washed his hands under hot water for the second time to get all the grease off his fingers, "ew."

A tiny beep rung in a nearby hall, "How 'bout you fold the laundry?"

"Okay, 'Auntie'."

 

The senior was starting to get the twitch. The kind he got when he didn't have his daily fix. Certain images filtered though his mind, besides yearning for the drug—involving a friend of his and bed sheets being folded by his arms. He might have given the kid some sense to their whereabouts, but he knew that he himself was just as ready to begin that same self-pleasure cycle all over again. Maybe it would be a lot less violent. Maybe he could enjoy it again, like when he first started out, at 18…

After Harmony. A millisecond of her image zoomed by: A look of pure fright, then shot with lustful pleasure—her insinuating moans intoxicated and begged him to go even further—even in all his anger and frustration—an unrelenting fury at her words,

"We're doing nothing wrong!"

"NO! No, darling. We're doing EVERYTHING wrong—You. _Filthy woman_." How his view of people like her had changed—

He had gone to the extreme to understand a whore, by becoming one on his own. Bradley would never admit it outright: He had become just as filthy by the end of his senior year in high school. A bit reluctant to taste another man's flesh… the voices of his mind stopped to a familiar sound hanging nearby.

His hands messed up trying to fold a dress shirt for the fifth time as he tried to block out a stream of images from going into full focus—rather they shifted into the fresh memories of the locker room and the pool—

That silhouette against the rays of the sun.

"Let's not, Bradley. Get back to folding clothes."

A kid sat in a corner of the hallway, knees to his chest, holding onto a book for dear life. The young man lowered a brow and shook his head, barely noticing how much his whole frame was shaking—

"I really should have brought a drag!"

A hand touched his shoulder. He had to stop himself from jolting upright—

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Ms. Marpole sat on the couch, next to his pile of laundered clothes and linen. She had a warm smile on her face, as usual. Her presence calmed him down just a bit, "I'm fine!" he breathed, "Just getting a little antsy, that's all!"

"Is it about your father?"

"Yeah!" eager to change the channel in his odd mind, "Him." trying to keep his lid shut.

"I'm sorry Goofy brought him up. Is he still, rather strict?" Sylvia didn't know much, but she took notice of each male's reaction whenever the other was brought up in a conversation. It was far different from the Goof's usual spiel.

"I _hate_ him." Now feeding his father, Alphonse, the spoonful of poison, "He never listens to me. He never takes me seriously. He doesn't understand me!"

Newfound energy sped the folding, a bit sloppy as he tossed the linen on the designated pile, "I mess up, he gets angry. I try my best, he doesn't care! When I succeed— _Nothing!_ "

Sylvia's brows knit in concern, same as before, "Have you ever tried to figure out why—

"He'll never tell me. Ever. All he'll ever do to 'help' is compare me to other guys saying, now that's a man! He's not a coward. He's a good man. Respectful. Why can't you be more like him?? Look at the friends you're making leading you down the path of unrighteousness!"

The features on his face took on a dangerous expression. Brows furrowed; glaring at nothing through cold fire. The folding stopped. Now, he was just chuckling to himself, "He was right!"

Sylvia had never seen him this tense before, "Bradley," reaching for his hand—

"Let's go out. Take a walk. Put on a jacket. It's cold outside—

"uh," making little sense his current actions. Speedwalking to the coat hanger just next to the front door, he donned his trench coat before throwing her jacket over the clothes—

"Wait, Bradley, let me change—

"I don't care what you look like, inside or out. Let's _go_." It was a command to follow.

The librarian, less relaxed and more confused than usual, put on her down-feather jacket and paced over to the entrance, slipping on some boots for the trek. The young man borrowed an umbrella from a hook, just in case,

"I'm sorry, Ms. Marpole. Is there a little store or gas station nearby?" keeping his gushing emotions under control.

"Wh—What for?" bit hesitant as to not provoke him further,

"I need a smoke." Grinning, rather sheepishly.

"Bradley!" The woman gawked at him in disbelief as he placed a caring hand on her petite shoulder,

"Ms. Sylvia Marpole, dear." Being taller, he leaned down and pecked her cheek as a loving son would to his mother, "There's a lot you don't know about me."

 

Not that I'll ever tell.

 

Brad had to start back on Square 1, having to deal with a cigarette's bitter, tarred taste.

_Ugh. This shit is disgusting!_

\-----

Time and time again, Maxie's mind wandered to Bradley's infatuation with the librarian. Or at least he considered it one. He just hoped that when he and his dad reached home, they weren't off in the bedroom, hidden away in each other—A split second revealed an expression of the woman's face, and he felt himself go red. "Max?"

"Huh? Oh—" prodding at his cheeks, "it's cold.." He suddenly remembered the King's Harem. Bradley's offer of the Store Girl to him. In all shock, he had run out of the Gamma House, looking back only when the bulge in his jeans had settled down… Then his jock friend ended up having her to himself— _"a virgin!"_

Roxanne wasn't.

_"Don't you want to marry this 'Roxanne' you mentioned in the locker room?"_

He wanted to marry her regardless. Then she left. She had flown away, and dropped—

 

Goofy wrapped an arm around his shoulder, in the middle of the supermarket parking lot. The fog had risen, and a bright yellow sun did nothing to control the freezing temperatures.

"Not here, Dad. It's embarrassing." Max wriggled away from his grasp and let his father's hand mind the shopping cart loaded with groceries. The kid's brain was somewhere else the entire time, finding what they needed on their list. Any terms of endearment were brushed off with indifference.

Max hadn't forgotten the "joke" that Brad told him while he was handcuffed to the desk, either.

If anything, the months spent with the senior and the musings of his corrupted conscience left him with an insatiable sex drive, now poking through with bizarre attractions.

And a bit paranoid. He knew Goofy never meant any harm. It was a wonder how he was even born! Max was sure that his mother was treated with utmost respect—

"Agh—

"What's the matter, Max?" The boy ignored the question and placed the paper bags in the open trunk,

"I should've brought gloves," blowing into his bare palms, rubbing them together and feigning the chills, "My hands are about to fall off, heh heh!"

Goofy scratched at his egg-shaped head, "I was gonna ask you about that earlier."

"Just wanted to try something different, that's all. Is that it, Dad? Can we go home now?"

"You're really itchin' to hang out with Mr. Uppercrust, aren't you? We still have other places to go to, son." He put the car into ignition, "I'm still surprised how you two became friends so fast, from heated rivals to best buddies—

"I wouldn't say best buds." Making a slightly humored face, "Peej is my right hand man, remember? We're not pals. We might have some things in common, but…"

 

He pursed his lips together, afraid that he had said too much…

".. Dad. He'll never be a friend like PJ or Bobby." slouching down in his seat and casting his eyes down.

Shaky sigh, "Don't think that we haven't argued—most of the time—He's different."

Goofy didn't know what to say, pulling out of the space, and easing the car into the main street ahead. It was hard to maintain eye level,

"I wish," not thinking it through, "I could change."

"Change what?"

Now as an afterthought, "Him."

\-----

When they reached home, the sun was setting early again. The boy blew out a draft of hot air into the orange-violet sky. The curtains of the front of the house were drawn. A warm light shone through the white lace.

Quiet voices could be heard from the living room. Loaded with the day's baggage, Goofy motioned to his son to take the keys and unlock the door. He used a knee to balance his own weight with other errands—

It opened with a creak, panel opening slowly.

"don't think he'll ever change, 'Auntie'. He's so mean to me."

Goof Boy held his breath in between a sudden gasp.

"He's your father, Bradley. He raised you. No matter what he's done, you have to forgive him."

"But what if—

 

Sylvia peered up at the two trudging in with the groceries and gave a sad smile. Her hand rested in Mr. Uppercrust's hair. It was far too late to avoid being seen by his comrade, so he lied still.

"Why don't you help them with the other bags in the car, sweetie?"

"Okay," failing to conceal reddening cheeks.

\-----

"You weren't kidding."

"No. I'm still a kid, I guess."

"You really are."

 

The males had little to no time being alone in the same room, or outside while raking leaves together. A kiss was stolen here and there, halfheartedly. Bradley even confessed how much he longed for intimate contact once they got back to that dreadful campus, "I know it's not right, Max, but I can't help it. If it's not you then it'll be another, and another!"

"I don't care if you're with others. I never cared! We can, I dunno…" shagging hair in quiet anxiety, "get out of that campus altogether—

"You're crazy."

 

Lying next to each other in Max's bedroom guaranteed nothing. But by now their seas of raging hormones had ebbed, for the time being.

Bradley rubbed at his eyes, unable to fall asleep just yet, "I can't believe she's marrying your dad!"

"Sorry you have to lose your 'auntie'."

"I wouldn't care if she did marry—Your dad had a wife,

"She died."

"And why did he go off and see other women?"

"Until Death do us part," quoting a marriage vow. "My dad isn't like your dad." The senior turned over in his cushion of blankets and hissed, "How'd you figure??"

"I assume that your dad was the whore, not your mother." Max laughed aloud before tearing his eyes away from the ceiling, "Like Father, like Son I guess!"

Seething, "I'm _nothing_ like him! He's got his own reasons, _different_ from my own!"

"Chill, roomie." The kid plopped down next to him and took ebony fingers under the silk top, hoping for a favorable reaction,

"Max."

"Hm?" caressing a firm nipple before letting his palm stroke down the jock's abdomen, to which he shuddered and broke into a cold sweat—"Max!"

"Toss that thing aside," grabbing the head of the stuffed animal hidden in Bradley's arm, "and let's have some fun."

"W—what kind?" holding onto it despite his tugging. The kid growled,

"My kind."

 

The farthest they could go was topless. Brad wouldn't shut up,

"Please, Maximilian. Not here! Not _here!_ "

"Why not??" Taking a deep breath of oxygen before going into his mouth again, "Dammit Brad—we can take this to the shower and they won't tell the difference! We'll wash everything away when we're done."

"But they'll _hear_ us!"

"Turn on the fan; keep quiet, and they won't."

The Uppercrust kid shook his head, " _No_." trying his best to stop blushing, feverish. He promptly reached for the pajama and slipped it on before burying himself under the covers. He caught sight of the teddy, peeking out, and kissed its face before hiding away. Maximilian rolled his eyes and grated his teeth,

" _Fine_. Be that way." Putting his tank top back on, "I thought you could channel that anger into us."

"I'm not angry anymore." Voice muffled by the thick comforter, "I'm scared.."

 

. . . . .

"Little boy."

 

\-----

 

A familiar scent wafted through, comforting him, lulling him to submission. He let his sense of smell guide him through a maze of beads and tapestries. The walls shone with gold dust adorning cedar wood. One word echoed through and through. His name. It was soft, sweet, angelic. The boy passed yet another bottle of expensive wine. He licked his lips and finally got a hold of one, and a nearby glass on a lavishly decorated table, laden with delicious fruits and spices. Reds, violets, honey, velvet. Rich, warm colors of various shades and hues... Another smell invaded his ongoing search. He threw out opium incense burning on its stand before taking a sip of the bloodied liquid,

"Ah!" Swirling the wine again,

"What are you doing?? You can't drink that!" Ruby orbs shone, "And, why not?"

Light blue flickered, "Because! You know how I get with that!"

"Then you're a terrible drinker. Anything done in excess is a bad thing… But," smirking, "there's nothing wrong with drinking once in a while. Smoking once in a while—Having some _fun_ once in a while!"

The Other Half winked before finishing the glass. It shattered on the wall.

 

"She's close. I can feel it."

 

"Who?" Giving the other a deadpan look, "You're suffering from short term memory loss, kid!"

He took a gentleman's hold on the boy's waist and ran a tongue across pursed lips, "come on."

Max resisted His sweet kisses and cleanings of his neck and shoulder blade…

"Follow me, love." holding the boy's hand with supreme gentleness and dodging the obstacles in their twisted path. Everything looked the same all around. It was a kaleidoscope; Goof couldn't tell his right from his left…

Heads were beginning to spin until his angel spoke, "We're here, my dear Maximilian."

"Hi, Max."

 

Brightest sapphire was fixated above glittering gold chains as a part of her crown. The precious metal hung in a thin veil over her umber orbs, rich chocolate with a sparkling center. Roxanne lounged around on pillows of many sizes, in all comfort. Silk enveloped her curvaceous body, the part hanging from her shoulders exhibited quite a bit of skin. She took her delicate fingers and parted the dress at her hips. The long side cut of the fabric revealed her creamy legs…

The Other Half pushed the boy forward, "What do you think??"

"What do I think?!" Max couldn't understand how He regained all control over his emotions in so little time. His breathing came at odd intervals. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck, forehead—temples pulsating. Something about all this—

"This isn't—!"

"What's the matter, Max?" Rising from her resting place, she strode gracefully to him and ran a hand through his raven hair, "Are you okay?"

"No! I'm _not_ okay!" _This is_ not _Roxanne!_

The girl placed a finger on his lips, "ssshh.." closing in the space between their mouths. Max couldn't breathe. Her scent was overpowering, "haa.. ha—Ahh, R—Roxanne." For lack of a better name to give her. This Lady in Red.

The dress lowered even more at the bare shoulders. The top part of her breast was exposed, "oops."

A nudge teased the kid's shoulder, " _This_ is the way things are supposed to be, Maxie. This is _normal_ for a young man like you!"

_Young man?_

With little control, he let his exposed arms wrap around her. She cooed, and did not resist… Strange things spilled from the boy's mouth in a different tongue. He ran a hand forever through her fiery locks, dark and tight. Before he knew it, her dress was opened, round hills exposed. She twisted herself around his torso and led him down to lie over her.

 

"Max. Do you love me?"

She seemed so innocent. So childish, in all her elegance.

Soft fingers felt her smooth skin…

"Yes. I love you."

 

They shared a passionate kiss. All tongue. Max had now taken a predator's stance, feeling her up and down as far as his joints and muscles would let him. Her warmth was all he wanted— All he longed for—!

 

. . . . .

 

_This… Roxanne!_

 

_This is all WRONG._


	4. Chapter 4

The morning was cloudless, bright.

Still cold.

Like the day before, the sophomore had woken up early to yet another nightmare. Only this time he had forgotten what it was. Some tune played over and over in his head. Powerline. This nostalgia trip within the din of regaining focus, lasting for only a couple of minutes, brought a genuine smile, void of malice…

And like before, the excitement was too much. He had to wake up. For a second his conscience was clear: This was not the girl he adored from afar. She wasn't the girl who ended up being just as shy as he was. Roxanne was pure…

Was.

 

Max shuffled to the living room, a bit groggy. He had to block his eyes from the pouring sunlight through the window. His dad sat in the armchair reading the Sunday newspaper in his blue robe, not noticing that he had come up behind him, "Boo."

Goofy was even more startled when he received a tight hug, "huh!"

"Morning, Dad." A gloved hand touched the side of his face, "Morning, Son."

It was rare when Max asked for affection. Especially when he had a guest in the house.

\-----

A boy stirred in forced sleep under the comforter, still protecting that scrap of childhood in his arms… He wanted to keep on dreaming. Yet he knew that his reality was inevitable; Bradley had to wake up again but he didn't want to leave the garden, the courtyard. Flowers of all shapes and sizes… Hiding behind the trunk of a tree and poking through to see his mother in her Sunday best. Flowing hair under a wide brimmed hat. Ribbons swam through the air with every step she took,

"Bradley. Where are you, honey?" A boy giggled and kept still. The orbs were lighter, blue as the sky. Her snow white dress drifted past the tree—

"Mama!" tugging at the light cotton. "There you are!" He beamed and hugged her leg,

"I love you, Mama!"

The older Bradley sat on a stone bench nearby, watching his mother lift him up with her thin, graceful arms and over her head, "Little angel of mine!" The child pretended to fly, and swooped down on her shoulder, embracing her neck, "I love you."

Kissing his chestnut hair, "I love you too."

"And I love you both."

Alphonse leaned against the arch of roses, a good distance away. His usual business suit was replaced by a polo shirt, sienna brown with dark grey accents. Never the type to wear denim, he rather wore formal tan khakis, held on by a black belt and its simple, gold-plated buckle. Brown loafers clipped their way to his wife and son. His usual serious demeanor always softened when hazel met emerald glass, "Lillian."

"Hello, dear," having to crane her neck up to reach his lips. He towered over her in height and age. Alphonse removed the hat and let his beloved hold it in her fair skinned hand. Little Bradley was in between their show of affection for one another, smiling,

"Daddy." Holding out his arms. Alphonse laughed and carried him high, spinning him around,

"Ahh! No, Daddy!" failing to stop his giggling in all that thrill.

Lillian played along, "No honey! He might fly away!" Imitating a scream.

"I.." Heavy eyelids opened to darkness, inside the cave walls of his thick blanket, "oh."

Brad's hair was a tousled mess. He took forever to adjust his focus. He nearly coughed trying to fill up on lost air, sitting up in his makeshift bed. He sighed, and rubbed his temples, "ohh.."

The young man twisted his neck and realized that his friend wasn't there again.

\-----

"Dad?"

"Yes, Maxie?"

"Remember that crazy summer?"

"It's hard to forget!"

His son grimaced within his embrace. Both were reminiscing on better times. Those times when the only responsibilities were getting good grades, making friends, and having a blast in his own little world. Goofy had his arm resting on the side of the couch. The Sunday paper collected dust on the coffee table nearby. Their long talk was altogether sobering, despite their occasional laughs and "Ahyucks!" during their review of zany antics.

Max questioned further, "Remember you mentioning something about the electric chair… my principal told you..?"

"He said you were dressed up like a gang member, but then you explained it—

"Yeah.. Hey. What if—?" As usual, Goofy was all floppy ears, "What if I _was_ a gang member? Shooting and killing." His father blinked and furrowed a brow, "Would you _still_ l—catching himself—"look at me as your son?"

"Always, and forever." The aging father's tone was somber. Goofy didn't understand why he would ask such a question, "Although,"

" _Huh?_ " The child in Max was breaking through, "Although what??"

"It wouldn't be right for you to go around doing that. I'll love you no matter what. But I would want you to change."

Max felt a need to turn his eyes away before biting his lip.

_That's what I'm afraid of._

"You're not doing anything bad, are you, Son?"

He told himself he wasn't going to start shedding tears. He looked back at his Goof for a father and lifted a corner of his lip, "No. I'm just glad that you'd…

_love me, no matter what._ The kid buried himself into his father's shoulder and swallowed yet another bit of phlegm, "Dad, I—"

"There, there, Son, it's okay." Holding him close, "No one's watching."

 

In that respect, the Goof was wrong.

 

Bradley made sure not to make a sound, walking back up to his friend's room. He found the stuffed bear and lay in the other bed, facing the wall it was backed up against. The senior's heart sank to a point where crying was useless. He kept there, motionless…

_Where is she?_

Another echo of his younger self, _Where's Mama?_

… "Never mention her again."

 

The years of a wasted life passed by. He kept on asking the same question over and over again. If he wasn't asking, he'd blatantly refer to her, Lillian, just to spite his father.

The Uppercrust kid used to love his father. Looked up to him… And like everyone else…

"He betrayed me. I did nothing wrong."

He wished he could drift off to a better place, where everything made sense. Where everything had gone right. Where..

The click of the door made him stiff.

"Bradley? What are you doing in my bed?"

"… what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Lying in my bed."

"Exactly," he responded bitterly.

….

"I'm sorry."

Bradley still had his back to him, "for what?"

Goof Boy wiped another tear away, "Everything."

Both still hadn't changed from their sleepwear. The senior got up and planted his feet on the floor, sitting the teddy up in his lap. Max's face was stained with red. A pathetic, disheveled state.

The boy walked to his compromised friend, and dropped to his knees, "I can't."

 

"Max." Another child sighed as the black canine wrapped himself around the waist, "Angel."

 

_I can't._

 

"I can't do this to him, Bradley." _How long will this lie last?_ "You know that I want this just as much as you do."

 

_I'm not so sure, Maximilian._

 

"Don't. Don't cry, kid." Bradley kissed his hair and ran hesitant fingers through damp keratin… Not as a lover, but the father he wanted to have.

 

Water rolling down his eyes, light blue gone three shades darker, this kid nodded and began to chuckle, "This is fuckin' embarrassing."

"Yeah. It is."

\-----

Wind suddenly rushed through their being. They picked up speed. They were that close to flying. Gravity and their current reality brought them back down to earth again.

It was an amazing high, being together this way, feeling so close!

In a way they could never reach on their own.

The downhill slope, as steep as it was, soon touched level ground.

Now all they had to do was get back up again, in hopes they wouldn't slip and fall.

All over again.

 

Wheels turned on their side and scuffed the pavement.

 

They didn't even bother to put on helmets.

 

"What now?"

"I'll show you the sights around town. You're gonna have to come up with a different name

"Jonathan Brisby!" as if it were his cue on stage.

"Uh.. That, was quick."

The day was considerably warmer. A light breeze touched their faces as they picked up the skateboards. Max wore a thick, white cotton shirt over a thin, blue sweater. The boy went back to wearing his satin gloves and stone blue denim.

Brad had packed a red letterman jacket and vintage 80s jeans, Levi's. And, for the hell of it, Nike shoes. Windchimes knocked at each other a distance away. An airplane soared overhead. Not a puff in the sky. The rays of the sun comforted him, despite the yellowing of the leaves marking the oncoming winter season.

A season where everyone was expected to be jolly and carefree.

 

"He's had a hard time, Goofy. One is only a product of the life they've led. Alphonse loves his son. I'm sure. Same goes with Bradley, otherwise he wouldn't have been so… troubled, yesterday."

"Troubled?"

"I've never seen him like that before. I'm worried."

 

Both man and his fiancé were spread out on a wide hammock, also enjoying this favorable weather. Or at least trying to. Goofy was just as concerned about his own son as she was of her "nephew". It was strange. Hard, believing the fact that these two, as different as they were, could be friends. After what Max had said…

"When I decided to quit the Gammas, Mr. Uppercrust—

"Bradley."

"He didn't want me to leave. Now that I think about it, him and Max were practically enemies… I overheard them. They cheated at the X-Games. They were cheating all along."

Sylvia would have been more surprised if she didn't spend time with him yesterday, "What do you mean, all along?" Eyes fixated on rusty leaves, "He wasn't the type to."

"A bit two-faced, if you ask me."

"What about _now_ , dear?" brows slightly knit over green.

A straw colored wool sleeve wrapped around her neck, holding her close, "I'm still not sure. Max told me—

"they don't get along so well. They fight all the time… Yet they seem content now, being here."

"For how long? It's about time they got back… I don't want anything to happen to my boy."

The Goof sounded so helpless—"I know he's not a kid anymore. He needs to learn to handle things on his own now, but he's still my son. Besides you, he's all I have."

Bradley's "aunt" kept on staring at the canopy for about a minute before her eyelids drooped, letting salt roll down her complexion.

\-----

_Not what I expected. Not from you. You're rotten to the core._

_You're simply a coward. Stop wearing that mask. It's damaged. Let me see who you really are…_

_Little boy. Why are you frightened?_

_… Stop defending him, Maximilian. I have a clear shot at this._

 

"You have class tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah. We should be heading back today… at the most, around 5 or 6…"

 

Max and Bradley, alias Jonathan, had left their boards in the Lincoln's trunk before taking their stroll. The sophomore suggested that they ride in the car in order to check out the whole city. The other refused, "Waste of gas" Apart from that, not much communication would go through with him behind the wheel. It was a relief knowing that the ESPN and other sports buffs were glued to the screen in the confines of their homes to even notice the captain of Team 99 hanging out with the notorious King of the Gammas. Max assumed that others wouldn't even recognize him outside of that televised sphere… More than once had the kid thought of holding his hand, in broad daylight even. He'd seen others do it on campus, now and again... They didn't care what other people said of them… Even though it was wrong.

He couldn't say sinful. There was no one out there that could help him. Bigger than him. If a God had existed, Roxanne, his one and only angel, wouldn't have fallen into the hands of that scum. Max wouldn't have gotten himself into the situation that he was in. If this "God" existed, then why did everything in his life go wrong? Why had it all become a living nightmare—the walk with his strange companion was only an interlude to what he'd have to face in the near future.

He peered up at Bradley's face from his slouch. There was something serene in his features. A piano must have been playing in his head; a corner of his dry lip lifted itself.

"We were here yesterday, Ms. Marpole and I." taking a sip of a coffee well under the name-brand radar. It made him comfortable, not worrying about appearances in this secluded local café and diner, awash with deep tones of sepia and mahogany. These two were settled in a cushioned booth in the far corner of the space. During his tour of suburbia and the town, Max had taken note of the little insignificant things that impressed this slightly hyper (and bit demented) young man. It still took him a pinch in his own arm to remind himself he wasn't the more stable of the two, either. The black dog resisted the urge to kick him in the shins or play footsie under the table. He would never admit that he too was a child, try as he might. A hand went up in his face,

"Hello!"

"Hi."

"Why're whispering? What we can't talk in public anymore is that it??"

A complexion kept going red even as a fresh blonde waitress asked them for another round.

"I'd love some, thanks." As gentlemanly as the self-acclaimed poet could be, before shooting her a wink, catching her by surprise. Steam of the black liquid rising in the air accentuated the girl's dead stare, where a smile would usually be plastered over. The jock cringed, and looked after her as she strode back into the kitchen, nose high in the air.

"They play hard-to-get outside of campus do they? Figures; they got parents watching over them." Another plain observation before letting that piano play again. The sophomore kept on chewing the sides of his tongue, throat empty of anything clever or funny to say; that same problem he'd face if he were on a date with Roxanne.

"Man, I hate this," the satin fingers scratching at the back of his head before gulping down a frosty version of a cappuccino with a light cream and drizzled caramel. Bradley scoffed, feeling sorry, "I thought we were a couple of men, not sissies!" sticking his tongue out, then sobering himself up as the bell of the door clanged to another family: A mom, dad, and a bunch of kids.

The boy suddenly covered his ears, waiting for chaos to be screamed out at the top of their lungs. The senior looked at him quizzically and glanced over his shoulder. These kids were oddly well-behaved, apart from the occasional joyous and curious outbursts. The oldest of the siblings kept watch over their activity with a sternness to her being. The same waitress led them to a sterile table and started up the same façade as usual. Genuine respect was given to her in return… But no matter.

"Max, can we go now? Bring that with you. It's getting late."

 

A twenty dollar bill was placed next to the salt and pepper shakers.

\-----

Their quality time was just about to run out. Blades of grass and branches with descending leaves felt a cool breeze; a bright orange over everything—

"Check out that sunset!" elated

Goof motioned him over, "I want to show you something—

"Can I hold your hand, Maxie??" giggling like an idiot

"What—no! I mean—I" receiving a friendly slap on the back—"Just kidding!" It touched an old bruise, "owow! Quit it!"

"Make me," poking at his forehead and a couple more bruises in immature wonder. Sad knowing that the other kid lived on a short fuse; Bradley's collar was pulled to where their chests heaved against each other in deepening breaths.

This time, the white dog made no counterattack. Not an inch of resistance… The ill-tempered boy was shifty-eyed, trying to make sense of this lack of reaction… Something in him was desperate for a fight.

"Why are you smiling? And…"

Dry lips went wet with salty dew, and let him have a taste.

"Brad—" returning the kiss ferociously; hands couldn't go anywhere but to his own sides, "Oh, Bradley!" A sudden chill went down Max's spine; he didn't dare look around to see if anyone on this planet was staring at them. He wanted this isolation forever... However, his friend thought otherwise—

"Hey," breaking contact while leaving his tears to flow freely, "what did you want to show me?" Max grinned and guided him to the very top of the hill, overlooking its steep slope to a sandy bank below… beyond that—

"Wow." As if he'd never seen a large body of water in his life. Reddened eyes shone in the sun's rays—"Ha ha!" Incisors gleamed, and a hyperactive pulse tripped the kid up and sent him sprawling down—

"Ack!— _Daaaamiiit Braaad!!_ " The way down was quite painful, being taken off guard. Once reaching level, the boy tried to regain focus of spinning skies when a shriek of pure delight came charging down, rolling at full speed—"look ou— _oof!_ "

" _Brad!_ " He felt himself pinned down by the tightest of hugs, "Get off! Get—you got grass stains all over you! You—choking me!"

" _I don't care!_ Aw Max I'm so glad you're my friend!" shagging his raven hair

. . . . .

"Max??" The young man choked on a giggle, forcing himself back into a somber state to match the other, "Something wrong?"

Wind blew harder, urging for the boy to speak, "Yeah. I, um" a tinge of color pecked his cheeks, "It's funny, really. I keep on thinking of—

"Roxanne." Bradley ran a hand through his wild hair as he sat up. Brushing pieces of dirt and green off the letterman jacket, he looked off into the far distance, sun setting lower and over the horizon, "You, really miss her, don't you??"

"I do."

"I miss my mother." Slight grimace. These two were always a set up for conversational disaster…

But maybe, today, it was different, "How long have you known her?"

It would be their only chance.

Max kept still, lying on both the edge of the sand and the green, hands behind his aching neck. Lips pursed, unpursed, never ceasing to bite the sides of his tongue. Throat gagged to give an answer—"Long enough."

"What do you mean—"long enough. High school. Freshman year. Talked to her sophomore year."

"Admired from afar, you little rascal?" Bradley hoped his buddy was ticklish; a glare stopped the action, "sorry."

Both let out withering sighs. A twist in his gut caused tanned fingers to reach into his leather pocket. The lighter made another appearance—but this was one of those plastic ones from the liquor store. "That's a cool design, the phoenix, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I try?" The senior shook his head and illuminated the tip. Carbon monoxide fumes carried away by the breeze of a red-orange canvas. Little pinpricks of light decorated a lavender crown, rare diamonds. The kid just stared at his ex-enemy's leisurely smoke, eager to calm his senses in just the same way, "Please, Bradley?"

"It's not good for you." Blowing out paper thin snakes

"Then why—?"

"Are you going to tell me your love story or not??"

It was his turn to leer upon him. It only took a piercing of his dark blue irises to realize who was the elder of the two. Max swallowed phlegm, still lying on the ground, "Roxanne." Not wanting to throw up, "She was everything to me."

"I'm listening."

"I did everything to get her attention. But, I was so… shy." The jock burst into laughter, "That don't surprise me!" The dog blushed and let out a faint smile, "You remember Powerline—I mean—ever heard of him?"

"Are you kiddin' me?! That's Old School!" Baby blues lit up—

"What's your fave tune?!"

"You gonna sing for me?"

"No!" rolling his eyes and giggling like a nerd, "I performed 'Stand Out' in front of the whole school just for her, dressed up like him and dancing away—I had the guys help me out too—she loved it!"

Brad suddenly remembered why he admired this kid so much. And envied him, from their very first encounter. Max led such an exciting life, having indulged in his vital stages of childhood—of innocence. Everything about this kid, despite all of the abuse he was capable of inflicting, was what Bradley wished he could have been—what he could have had!

The bitter aftertaste of the cigarette cemented him to reality.

"Lucky bastard" muttering under his breath.

"… I got caught by Principal Mazur, though. He told my dad that I was some gang member, as if I were really a danger to his 'perfect' little world." To this, Max sneered, "When I was a kid, I got into a lot of trouble… Mazur, fuckin' idiot, told my Goof of a father that I belonged in the electric chair."

He finally sat up and attempted to swipe the little white box under the dog's nose,

"Ah ah ah!" wagging a finger in front of him, "keep on talking—we're in another psych session."

"What do I have to pay you with?? My body?" The Marlboro was well beyond his reach, "Give it!"

"That's not important! Keep on talking!"

The kid couldn't understand why Brad was angry all of a sudden, his voice an octave higher—

"What else is there to tell you?!" finding himself laid upon the senior's physique, "I was a delinquent just like you said—I'm not perfect. So I got mad at my old man once or twice in my life—

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Wha—" grating his teeth. "I need to know why you have such a bad attitude."

"Like _yours?_ " Brows still furrowed. Tongue in cheek, Bradley let his eyes wander to the swinging branches overhead, the blanket of lavender becoming wider and wider… the leaves glowed red. The weight upon him shifted and settled to his side, waiting for an answer…

"Well, part of it; stupid people, I guess.. you?" By now, the hothead had cooled down, "No shit; people are everywhere. It's the same thing with me."

"Bullies?"

"Yep."

"Anything else? Something having to do with Roxanne?" He had no intention to let her name disappear from their world's existence.

Both fell silent for about five minutes, only sounds were the whistling wind and the chafing of the foliage above them. A low sloshing of waves glistened with the last of the sun's light… The darkened sky engulfed them. Not a cloud in the sky. The jock puffed some more and tapped the clinging ashes off the tip, careful not to have them fly straight into his friend's eye.

"Well?"

"Tell me about your mother. Her _name_ , at least."

Brad took in a deep, deep draft of nicotine, now feeling he should rather drown in these toxins before giving him any information… But if Maximilian would treat him the same way as before—

"Lillian." Smoke was released through both his dry mouth and nostrils in the breath of a dying man, "Her name was Lillian. My mother… 'Mama'."

Goof Boy bit his lip; he didn't know what to say now. His mind traveled somewhere else…

"She was beautiful. I'm not attracted to her in that way—the other let out a cough through cancer-free lungs—"Sun kissed, red hair. Flowing keratin…" A redhead… "Emerald, jade eyes" Deep umber in her orbs, that cute little mole underneath her gaze… "Always cheerful, kind, lo—

"Loving?? You _loved_ her; you _know_ what it is, what it feels like? Can you _tell_ me what true love is??" It sounded like an accusation for a crime not committed—

"Max—do me a favor and lay off the subject, and get off of me!"

He was forced into the cool grass once again, "I don't want to talk about her anymore!"

"How'd she die, Brad??"

"I don't _know_ how she died! I don't know anything!" Straining his voice as the atmosphere began to take advantage of his health, "Wh—What about Roxanne?? She's not _that_ much of a problem to you, is she?"

The sophomore held back a snarl.

" _She_ didn't die, right? _She's_ still _alive!_ I don't see why anyone would get so worked up— _obsessed_ over some girl not of your own flesh and blood like _this!_ Now I can see why she left you: You're insane!" So sure of himself, the spastic jock was. Gloves tried to throttle him—Max was suddenly livid—

_You wouldn't understand! I'll NEVER tell you!!_

Thin fingers joined forces and pried his neck free from the assault—"Here we go again, huh?!" he croaked. Within the shade of the evening, Bradley saw teeth bared, and a glint of a familiar creature in darkened orbs. Goof took deep breaths and counted seconds in his splitting mind, "There, are—worse things, than Death, _friend_."

 

The mask of 'Jonathan' forced out a chink of porcelain under intense pressure. Bradley did not want to dig into his past any further, "I… I'm, sorry." Still short of air, and now—

"I'm cold. Hold me?" arms spread wide, tears welling up in his eyes from the shock of the possibility— _I'm so sorry._

The dominant male felt the best method of torture now was to not grant his wish, but then cracked at the first sob, "Bradley, 'Jonathan Brisby', Uppercrust the Third—you fuckin' _idiot!_ I hate you! But I _love_ you! I want you to be _mine_ , forever!"

_So sorry…_

"That won't happen, ever," weeping and chest heaving from internal suffering, "You out of _everyone_ should understand that I don't confuse—

" _Shut up!!_ Just _shut up!_ "

They never wanted to let go, freezing over in the desperate embrace. Sharp and searing nightmares flowed through dark, pitiful souls. Ashes of the white twig mounted to the other end, blown out of its red glow…

 

_We're not ready. And… never… will be._

 

\-----

Keys jangled with each tiny step. More anxious than relieved to be heading back to college, Bradley found himself checking the contents of his trunk for the fifth time, "You sure you got everything?" _I wouldn't mind staying for another night._

"Yeah, Brad!" calling from the living room, front door wide open. 'Brad' twitched an eye. Goofy exited the house and walked to his side, "Pleasure getting to know you a little more, Mr. Uppercrust."

"Mr. Goof." Firm handshake, business savvy, "I'm honored knowing that you let me in after all I've done—I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem, honey." Bradley took a step back from the librarian in question; she had snuck up on him, "Anyone can change for the better! Oh—wrapping arms around his shoulders and giving a small kiss on his cheek, "I'm going to miss you, sweetie." The senior was rather stunned, peering over at Goofy's candid smile. _You told her??_ The old dog nodded. "Oh hun, you have grass stains all over you. Better wash them off when you get home!" _Not 'home'…_ Bradley couldn't hide his embarrassment, even as she pulled away, "Despite your differences, please stay good friends," palm resting on the side of his face, "I understand it's hard for someone like you…"

Max received his last hugs and goodbyes, "You take care of yourself, son... You're becoming a fine young man."

A boost of self-confidence was doused out by the pain he never felt whenever he left his father behind—his own flesh and blood… "Thanks, Dad. Love you."

Those last two words went unscripted in the tumult of his brain; it caused his old man to wipe away a watery bead, "Call when you get there—

"So that you know I'm safe. I will, Dad. Sylvia—thanks for everything."

The keys clinked some more before a clearing of a sore throat, "Let's go, 'dude'." The boy chuckled at Bradley's choice of words before settling into the passenger's seat. The car ignited and backed out into the empty street. Blue-violet sky looming overhead, Max waved his last goodbye and caught a glimpse of his dad kissing the petite librarian dead on the lips.

Bradley must have spied on them in his rearview mirror, "Angel—

"Yes, 'Jonathan'??"

"That one, we shared on the hillside…" Thin fingers gripped cool satin; right arm and hand beginning to shake with the rest of him, voice almost calloused—It made the Goof uneasy, and unprepared for what he was about to say,

"Let's try to make it our last."

 

Like grapes cut off from the vine.

This was _not_ what he wanted, nor expected… but kept his sorry mouth shut to keep the peace.

"I need you… to actually _help_ me from now on, beautiful angel of mine…" The conflicted athlete couldn't even look at him in the face. So scared of what the response would be—

 

… Max still couldn't believe in the existence of a God.


End file.
